Time Chasm
by Reye-Rede
Summary: The Underground is being targeted for assassination. Haven the Icelands are near war. The Dark Maker ship Jinx found in the Wastelands bodes ill for Jak and his cronies. Secrets, death, large explosions and ice cream. Updates every Saturday. Rated T for m
1. Chapter 1

**NOTE:** We **do not** own any of Naughty Dog's characters, places, names, or anything else I fail to mention. Just the plot and its many holes. R&R!

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Chapter 1:1

Compared to outside the corridor was dark, dank, and cold. The only warmth he was getting was from the two hands that were resting on his shoulders directing where he was supposed to go, and the two guns at his side to make sure he didn't try anything stupid. When he was first captured, it took his eyes nearly a minute to adjust to the dimness of the Fortress. Jak couldn't figure out what Marcus was trying to portray with his sparse way of living; everything was lit by torchlight, and as far as Jak knew, the only modern technology was far out of sight on one of the higher floors. Even the weapons that he was being held with were outdated. They still used metal bullets.

As Jak was being led down an ominous looking corridor by two huge, burly looking guards he thought about the last time he tried to do a stealth mission. If he remembered correctly, he didn't think it went this badly. Of course, the last time he had done a stealth mission his enemies didn't have seventy pounds and at least three inches on him, military training and the same scopes that help them track combat metal heads. He had no idea that he was only camouflaged when he used his light eco to become 'invisible'. The two guys on either side of him proved that he only blended into the background and did not completely disappear.

The Fortress was enormous. He once looked at a map that was stuffed in with the other blueprints and layouts of Haven City, and he counted eight floors excluding any floors below ground. There were some thousand-plus rooms and he remembered the square footage being a very large number. Therefore, as much as he tried to remember any grooves in the wall or a misplaced torch, it wouldn't help him much because the place was just so damn _huge_.

They turned a corner and Jak was pushed in front of two huge metal doors, standing close to five meters tall. Both guards let go their grip on his shoulders and went to open the door. This would be a great chance to escape, but where would go? He would either be caught or starve to death trying to find an exit.

A wave of heat washed over him from a huge grate fireplace on the other side of the relatively small room. Marcus was standing with his back facing Jak, dark red hair in a pony tail and almost invisible against the – was that a cape? – 'robe' he was wearing. Jak was shoved in and then brought forcefully to his knees. He gave one of the guards a dirty look and glanced around the room. There were honest-to-god tapestries hanging at close intervals on the walls, a guard below each, a tall throne and a table full of food but no chairs. It was a mingling room.

"Ah, Jak my friend. It's good to see you." He said without turning around, staring into the embers of the fire.

"We need to stop meeting like this." He said off hand, looking at the seemingly endless ceiling.

"Yes, every time I see you, you either seem to be in chains or with a gun to your head." Marcus turned around giving a million dollar smile that he probably practiced, and Jak realized he wasn't wearing a cape. Just an overcoat. Shucks. "How's life in the city?"

"Boring. Thought I'd wreak some havoc over here to stir things up a bit."

"Torn is not going to be pleased with you. And quite frankly, I am not pleased with you either."

"I'm just on everybody's happy list." He said dryly, wanting to get the false pretence of friendliness over with so he could get out of here. Marcus started to glide his way over to the table of fruit as he spoke.

"Sources tell me you are spending resources and income otherwise saved in the war reserve. I put good money in that reserve for my own protection but it is getting used behind my back for reasons unknown. Why?" Marcus was leaning on the table with his hands on either side of him, a very feminine pose.

"You might not realize it, but racing is a very expensive sport." The hard butt of a gun hit Jak in the back of the head after the sarcastic remark. Dots danced in front of his eyes and making it difficult to focus on something. Annoyed, he tried to redeem himself to keep his head attached to his shoulders. "How the hell should I know? Contact Torn and ask him. When something needs to be fixed, killed or blown up I'm your man. Numbers and I don't agree with each other." Marcus shook his head and gave a disappointed sigh.

"Lying is always followed by dire consequences, Jak."

"Is that a threat?"

"It certainly is. You threaten my way of life so I am simply defending it. Take him down to the third floor. I may be able to get something out of him by more persuasive means." Jak was lifted off the ground and was actually raised a few feet before they were off to floors below. They headed directly to their left and into an elevator. Only one guard came down with him. Jak's pulse sped up and his mind raced, thoughts wheeling past him before he could fully process them. The man was huge and had a distinct advantage over him in hand-to-hand combat, but with only one of the brutes with him, this was as good as it was going to get. If he was going to do anything, he needed to do it now, and quickly.

The door to the run down elevator closed and it was silent except for the low hum of the ancient, slow moving elevator. There was still a beefy hand on his shoulder. Jak looked at his feet and took a steadying breath. In one smooth movement, he feinted low and managed to place his hands on either side of the arm, wrapped the short chain around it and spun underneath it effectively breaking his arm and dislocating his shoulder at the same time. A scream erupted and Jak quickly silenced it with a swift kick to the stomach, knocking all air out, and then brought his fisted hands above the guards now lowered head and whammed them down with enough force to knock him unconscious. If there were any hidden camera's in there, they must have seen one hell of a show.

Quickly he bent down and patted him down looking for any weapon that might be present on his body. He found a small handgun, a couple of boomstick's that were probably made by one of Jynx's handy boys, and a deadly looking knife that was almost big enough to be a sword, and, most importantly, keys to the cuffs he was wearing. After some finesse, he managed to get them off before the elevator came to a jerking halt. He kept low to the ground and took as much cover as he could to the left until the elevator stopped and the real fun began.

There was a ping. The doors opened, there were two guards who didn't completely register that their comrade was unconscious on the ground and the captive was armed, so there was a moment of hesitation that Jak had before they drew their weapons and started shooting. He got one square in the chest so he was out, but only caught the other one in the arm. On the good, it forced him to drop his weapon but he still had enough gusto in him to come at Jak to rip him apart with his hands.

Without thinking of using his gun at point blank range, he went for the large knife that he stuck in his belt. He unsheathed it from his belt, and thrust the large blade through his stomach. Jak got a glimpse of his eyes before he fell to the ground. When Jak killed, he usually made a special effort to avoid dead eyes, but every now and then he would catch one and he started feel the remorse. Taking away life is not as easy as it sounds, and the key to not loosing sleep over it was to never look the enemy in the eye because then they become a human being with a soul…if you believe in that sort of thing.

To pull him out of his morbid thoughts were echoing footsteps in the distance. They were not running, however they were walking like whoever it was had a purpose. Whoever was coming must have heard the brief gunfire. He assumed the worst and thought guards were coming so he kicked the two large bodies into the cage that was the elevator, slammed the grate close and made his way in the opposite direction. Jak didn't get far however when shadows were being cast on the wall of more than a few guards making it towards him. Exit. Escape. I need a door.

Frantically and for reasons unknown he searched the ceiling and floor before he checked to the right and left. There were two doors to his left; he had to try both before he found one that was unlocked. He closed it quietly paused beside the door to hear anybody who might be passing, gun and knife at the ready in case anyone decided to burst through. He didn't hear anyone pass, but he didn't hear anything else either.

Jak looked around the room that he wound himself up in and saw he had landed in some sort of experimental room/prison hold that looked uncannily like what Praxis had set up for him years back. He blinked a couple times to get the burning image of the chair and the deadly machine that was used on him and started to look for an alternate route out. He jumped the flight of stairs, all three of them. Whee. The room was dimmer than the hallways through which he had been led. There was still a single torch on the far wall giving enough light in the small room to see some vague details. Cells were on either side of him, strapping chair dead center, silver tables with medical instruments that were the stuff of nightmares sitting on them. On the opposite wall, there were torture devices, some of which he wouldn't even guess at how to use. Unless he wanted to start feeling up the walls for a secret concrete block, there was no other way out.

Jak headed back to the door he came out of and heard movement to his right. Instantly he was in a defensive stance, handgun in his left, machete-like blade in his right. He was facing a cell, and he felt like there was something there just beyond his vision. Jak couldn't quite see the wall ahead of him. It could just be a rat or some other pest that you would find in an unkempt torture room, but maybe not. Slowly he sidestepped towards the cell ready for any supernatural creature to leap through the bars at him. Instead, he found to be what looked like a teenager cowering in a corner, her long, dirtied hair draping over panicky silver eyes.

At first, he was stunned. Finding a teenage girl in a cell was not what he was expecting. A Dark Maker, Krew coming back to life, or Praxis were all possibilities, but this obviously malnourished girl was not. He also debated what to do with her. Should he just walk away, claiming to see nothing? In the end, it would probably be the healthier choice. He shook his head at the thought knowing that his conscious would drive him mad if he left her in this hellish place. Quickly he took a few steps back so he could shoot the huge padlock that was holding her prisoner. She scooted back at the sound of the echoing gunshot and seemed to be trying to melt through the wall. He had no time for being a gentleman, someone was have bound to hear the shot.

Jak spotted her legs and hands being bound, so he holstered the gun in the small of his back and shifted grips on the blade he was carrying. Judging from her tattered and torn clothing, she had been here for no less than a couple of months, so the binds must have been there just as long. Circulation would have been cut off for a long period. Walking would be difficult, let alone running.

"Hold still!" He half yelled at her as she squirmed away from his touch. He put a hand on her flailing legs to steady them and shifted his grip on the knife to cut the binds. The blade was too large and the plastic ties were far too tight, but after a moment of tight manoeuvring, he managed to do it. The girl seemed to have realized that he wasn't there to cut her up into pieces, so she was still as he released her hands.

Swiftly he picked her up and threw her across his shoulder, surprised by how little weight she had. He only had one hand free now, so which weapon to choose? Jak made a hole in one of his pockets with the blade so he could use it as a temporary sheath. Guns had range. Range was good. He drew the gun and listened for any foreign noises outside the door. He heard nothing, but opened the door slowly as a precaution.

Jak doubled back the way he came and headed towards the elevator. If logic served him correctly he had been brought to one of the basement floors, and any exit he would hope to find would be on the ground floor. The bodies he had kicked in the elevator were still there, but there was room to stand and find the ground floor. He put the girl down, and put her in a corner where there was some minimal cover when he was sure she could stand by herself. Slowly the elevator moved upwards giving Jak a little bit of time to think about what to do. There was no doubt the main entrance would be heavily guarded, and there was no doubt that the ground floor was huge. He thought back to the blueprints that he had seen in the library, but couldn't remember anything of use.

Jak decided to stick with the first floor. At worst he would come upon a legion of Azure Guards, at best he would find a way out, main doors or otherwise. He would need to go slow now that he was in unfamiliar territory, with unknown terrors just beyond the bend. Jak took the girls hand and led her out of the elevator, keeping her directly behind him. Her slow pace would pace him and help him pay more attention to his surroundings.

Jak checked every door that they passed, the girl caught on quickly. She released herself from his grip unexpectedly and went to the opposite side to wiggle the door handles. The girl mimicked his smooth movements and when they came to an open space was careful to stay behind him at all times. Jak was extremely impressed. Not only could she walk, she could think at the same time. If he had an extra weapon, he almost would have trusted her not to shoot him in the back with it.

Jak did a low whistle to call the girl over to him. He had found an unlocked door. The girl got directly behind him, hugging the wall and keeping an eye behind them for any guards coming their way. Slowly he opened the door, and peered inside. The room was dark, but his sixth sense wasn't telling him there was some unknown horror in the darkness. Without taking his eyes off the room, he tapped the girl on the shoulder in signal for her to follow. They left the door open to let the minimal light in the corridor spill in so they wouldn't be tripping on their own feet.

The room was small, smaller than the room he taken the girl from. Storage was all it was, boxes were mounted up to the ceiling on both walls with a couple modified, but what appeared to be broken Blasters. Jak was tempted to see what was in the boxes but there wasn't enough light or enough time.

He walked in and as soon as the girl was beyond the dim beam of light from the corridor, she clutched onto Jak's tunic. At first it startled him because it was such a sudden movement, but then he realized she was either afraid of the dark, claustrophobic, or both. It was understandable, but could become a big problem. She managed not to freeze up or go into hysterics however, so the girl was redeemed for the flaw.

As he approached a door on the far wall, he heard voices on the other end. They were muffled and the only thing he could understand was the emotion coming through one of them. Pissed off, was what it was. The other was unbearably calm about the situation, which did not improve the other's temper. Without thinking of the possible consequences, he took cover just behind the door with the girl so he wouldn't be seen and slowly cracked open the door. The two voices, one whom he identified as Marcus', didn't hear the slight creak the door gave off and continued the argument, Jak now in a perfect position to hear.

"We don't know what he's doing here, how long he's been here and how much he knows. Kill him now before—"

"He knows nothing, you incompetent fool." Marcus was the calm on in the conversation, not surprisingly. Nothing seemed to bother the man. "If he knew something our hero would have made a remark about it; he's arrogant, as any star is. He would be trusting on Torn rescuing him, but he won't. Jak was sent here and Torn would destroy his cover by letting any hint of knowing of Jak's presence here. I just need to know why."

"It's because Torn knows that there's a spy in the system, he sent his one and only to sniff him out." Damn, his voice sounds so familiar…As Jak was processing the information he was hearing, he was trying to place Disembodied Voice Number 2.

"The Baroness and her pet have no idea, unless you let something slip?" There was a pause in the conversation.

"What the hell—" A guard appeared in the doorway blocking their light. Marcus' conversation cut off abruptly at the echo of a gunshot from Jak's weapon, and a body hitting the ground. Jak was up and out the door and halfway down the corridor with the girl over his shoulder in less than five seconds.

Jak ran blindly, not knowing where he was going and where he'd already been, but he was moving, and moving gave you the impression that you were doing something productive. "There he is! Sector three, ground floor all units—" Shit, shit, shit. Jak turned another corner and there was a small fleet of men coming down the hallway. Shot's were fired at him. Jak fired two of his own until the gun clicked empty, the most despairing sound he'd heard all day. On a whim, he threw the empty handgun over his shoulder and heard a satisfying thunk as it hit a human skull. He turned left and almost ran right into one of the bigger AG, but was stopped at the barrel of a gun. Both were stunned for a moment, and it gave Jak a chance to do something heroic. His knee came up high hitting the poor shmuck right in the groin. He doubled over, and dropped his weapon, but there was no time to pick it up.

Jak looked at his surroundings and had a vague feeling he had been here before. He had. The elevator he seemed to keep coming back to was directly ahead of him, a small legion of guard's right behind. He started to zigzag his running pattern to make him a harder target to hit as shots were fired directly by his head, one snagging his side. The girl was yelling some incomprehensible words at him and pounding on his back; the message was clear. Go faster, dammit!

Without any time to slow down Jak hit the opposite wall of the elevator, hard. He brought his foot up to the console of the many buttons and the doors started to close. He shoved the girl on the left wall until they closed so she didn't take one. Bullets were coming through the small opening and making a long rectangle of holes in the metal cage, and dents in the finally closed door, but the elevator wasn't moving. Frantically, he pressed a couple buttons. Nothing happened.

One of the shots must have hit the panel on the outside, effectively jamming the controls. Outside they were using someone as a battering ram, and they were going to get through. Jak looked for an escape and found one: the hatch at the roof of the elevator. The girl saw where he was looking and didn't need telling twice on what to do when Jak hoisted her up to get it open. There were two more bangs on the door as the girl climbed up with her minimal upper body strength, and there was now a visible gap in the thin sheet of metal between him and certain cruel and unusual punishment.

Jak was tall enough and the elevator short enough that he could jump up and grab the edges of the escape hatch. Thank god for all those push-ups. He was sure he tore some muscles in the process of getting there, but he was up and he had a plan. Jak grabbed the girl and pulled her close, telling her to hang on to him. He grabbed on of the boomstick's that he had been hanging on too. They were like a cross between a flare and a grenade; as soon as you whacked it against your leg, it was active and you had six seconds to get your ass a safe distance away. As soon as the door opened and two of the men's heads were visible, he dropped the grenade in, grabbed onto the tension wires that were holding the elevator up, and closed the hatch. Quickly he grabbed the large blade and wedged it in the little hole that the wires were looped through, and hoped to hell that this was going to work or they were both dead. "Hang on," He told the girl as he gave the hilt a good kick with his foot. It worked but not how he expected – instead of cutting the wire, it took away the whole fixture that was holding it on. He silently praised Marcus' lazy workers for never bothering to maintenance this particular elevator.

His already sore arms were really feeling it now as he hung on for dear life to the wire that was lifting him away to safety at a velocity that made his eyes water. He had no idea what would happen when he hit the top, now he was making it up as he went along. Below him, there was a loud explosion, and because of the narrow shaft, the flame from the explosion was rising faster than he anticipated. He would make it. He should make it.

As he approached the end of his rope, no pun intended, he made a hard fist to try to lessen the impact of the pulley that was waiting to slice up his hand. He hit and it Jak screamed in pain as nearly all his fingers broke and his wrist popped, forcing him to slide down a couple feet. Maybe it was adrenaline, or maybe it was because of the eco in his blood, but he hung on despite the pain and despite the fact that it probably destroyed a number of nerves in his hand. There was a door behind him, but the angry flame was rising fast. Jak started to kick the door, and it gave. He could do this. Jak took a swing backwards to give himself a little bit of momentum, and the door gave to almost being open after a couple more frantic kicks – but he wasn't going to make it.

Suddenly time seemed to slow down, and he had all the time in the world to make those final kicks and get them to safety. If he didn't know better, he would have said it was his light eco powers, but he knew that he had wasted all of his eco onto not being caught by Marcus in the first place. Maybe adrenaline acted as a stimulant, whatever it was it was working. One hard kick and one door came flying off. Jak swung into the opening and landed face first on the linoleum floor. All at once, time seemed to speed up again and the large explosion he had caused gulfed up the wire and the last remaining bit of oxygen before going back down into the pits from where it started. For a moment, Jak just lay there and listened to his speeding heart pound in his ears. For the first time in a long time, Jak realized how lucky he was, and how great it was to be the designated hero for this century.

A hand touched his back to jerk him out of his musings, the girl was probably wondering if he was still alive. "I'm okay." He said to the floor, which he now fully registered was not concrete. He sat up, and after getting used to the fact that he had probably bruised a rib or two on that magnificent dive, figured out that this was where Marcus probably housed his scientists, and kept all his high tech gadgets. With his uninjured hand and a slight groan, he got up and felt suddenly naked. He was now out of weapons and in his physical condition unable to defend himself. Now was the time to be extremely sneaky.

There was a different feel to this penthouse like floor. Jak suspected that there was actual heat running up here, or maybe it was just from the huge computer that Marcus had to defend his grand fortress. For now, it was empty and he wondered why. His body tensed as his senses went on high alert looking for any potential trap.

Jak entered an oval room with rows and rows of desks and what seemed to be the mother of all computers stationed in the middle for all to see. It was a giant black cylinder that reached to the tall roof with little white dots blinking at him all over, he assumed that meant it was working. Jak decided that there was no one here because of Jak's grand escape; they must have been evacuated as a precautionary. Jak took a couple cautious steps forward, his gut telling him there was something here he wasn't seeing. Doors were good, so he looked for one, and located what his heart desired. Above two large doors was a sign that said 'Experimental Flight'. He let out a breath of relief. Experimental flight, huh? Well, if he picked a flight vehicle that exploded halfway to home, at least he would have died outside of Marcus' walls.

Confident of his escape, he strutted forward with the girl trotting along behind him. Suddenly a holographic image of a small lynx-like creature appeared on a table near him. Its head twitched and it spoke a very human, mechanical voice. "Intruder. All units report to Sky Lab. Intruder." Lights and alarms started going off around him, the cat disappeared and he ran for the door, opening it with a hard hit of his shoulder. The girl was close behind and she closed the door behind him as he looked for an escape vehicle, throwing a large piece of metal in between the door handles to give them a little warning of when their time was up. In an enclosed space, the alarm was screeching and the urge to cover his ears with his hands was incredible. The girl didn't resist and had both hands tightly covering her long ears.

There were large JET-Boards, there were hovercrafts, there were modified Zoomer's that could probably drive underwater, but what really caught his interest was what looked to be a modified Hellcat, but sleeker and sexier. The frame was smaller which would provide more manoeuvrability and he had no doubt that the alloy was thicker, the speed and engine improved. Jak could have spent hours in here just examining the different mechanics of each vehicle, but restrained. He looked at the tag number that they were all labelled with, and found the corresponding ignition that was hanging on a nearby corkboard. He jumped in and motioned for the girl to follow. She hopped in the passenger seat and waited patiently while he tried to figure out how to start the damn thing.

There were several shots to the slightly more reinforced door, and the girl seemed to think that there were out of time. She snatched the ignition from Jak, and put it in a small hole on the side of his seat. She typed three symbols on the steering wheel that Jak had not noticed before, and they had lift juice. Of course, it was of standard transmission so driving was going to be difficult with his left hand out of commission, but not impossible. The vehicle hovered above ground and Jak used his one hand on the steering wheel, placing his thumb on the shiny red button that was conveniently placed for the automatic weapon on the original Hellcats. He pressed it once, and they both had to duck to dodge flying debris.

He had no idea what was packed into this baby, probably some mod of a Peacemaker nuke, but the wall was gone and so was half of the lab. "Whoa." He said, before coming to his senses and remembering that his executioner was just on the other side of the wall. Jak hit the gas and launched out of the newly created exit like a leaper lizard on speed. He let go of the wheel, changed gears, and the fortress was quickly becoming a toy house in the distance, the shots that were being fired in his general direction not even coming close to scathing the vehicle.

Despite the aching in his side from the graze of a bullet and his soreness of his ribs from the hard landing, not to mention the searing pain in his hand, Jak was all smiles. He made it out alive and he had a kick-ass vehicle that was faster than anything he had seen in air. He was over the ocean in half the time it takes on the local transports. Jak glanced at the refugee, who had either fallen asleep or passed out in the seat beside him. Jak was not looking forward to Torn's reaction when he found out the political mess this could cause. Instead of stressing over it he instead thought of the vehicle that he had just unwittingly stolen, and if the engine and the rest of its innards were compatible with his own Havoc.


	2. Chapter 1:2

Just as a side note, I posted the first chapter in two different parts, just because it's seemed a little long to be put on one page. I may change this in the future.

**NOTE:** We **do not** own any of Naughty Dog's characters, places, names, or anything else I fail to mention. Just the plot and its many holes. R&R!

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Chapter 1:2

Jak took a deep breath before walking into the abandoned warehouse where he assumed Keira was, even after all the time he was away. Before he dared to come close to the warehouse he made sure that the girl was out of sight and that he was fully healed to defend himself. Jak and Dax had discovered very early on that his eco levels were directly related to his metabolism. The more energy he had, the more eco. After a quick meal and a shower, he was ready to jump out of the frying pan and into the fire. As quietly as he could he opened the large steel door into instant near-darkness and manoeuvred around various pieces of metal, tools and other things that she had been using to repair the Dark Maker ship that they had recovered just off the Precursor Temple. He opened other door, and bright light blinded him for a moment before he was tackled by the woman herself. She had flung her arms around his neck in a welcoming embrace, exactly what he needed after the long journey from which he had just returned. Suddenly she stepped back, and slapped him. "I thought you were dead, asshole!" She said pouting as Jak rubbed the side of his face. "Where were you?"

"I was in the Icelands for four weeks." Jak cracked his jaw and reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small artefact no larger his thumb, and offered it to Keira. "I brought you a present." He held out his hand and grudgingly Keira examined the small, black object. Then her eyes widened, she snatched it from his hand and headed over to the large, purple rectangle box that was before him. It was a Dark Maker ship, so he was told, but all it looked like to him was a few crates from the Seaport Strip weld together to make something that resembled a large cargo ship.

Keira walked up a ramp and disappeared inside the metal beast.It was Jinx who had found the ship, accidentally. He worked heavily with explosives, and while he was trying out some of his new toys in the middle of the Spargus desert, he uncovered enough sand for a protruding point of the ship to spark his curiosity. A couple more explosives later, we had a large box. Hours later Jak new it was Dark Maker technology; days later, Samos and Onin both concurred that it was indeed a ship. Keira had been obsessed with restoring it, and had been working on nothing else since.

Jak heard a couple power tools go off, a click and then the ship suddenly lit up, and hovered a couple inches off the ground making the ramp bounce a bit. Jak smiled as Keira gave off a scream of triumph, and joined her inside. There were buttons, switches and levers illuminated by the dark ambient glow of the ship, and he was careful not to touch anything as he knelt down beside an open consol on the side of the ship. "You could have called." She said, still fooling with a couple wires and a large motherboard of some sort.

"I was in the middle of nowhere."

"Torn didn't give you a communicator?" She said, disbelieving.

"I wasn't allowed one because Marcus could track me through it if he was to ever get wind of me being up there.Apparentlyit would give off a single and make him aware of my location."

"How'd you find this trinket then?"

In truth, it was because of his dark powers that he was attracted to the small object. He couldn't pin point it's location but he could always tell if he was going in the right or wrong direction. When he was right on top of it, he dark powers flared without any effort. "I'm just that good." He said instead. She laughed, closed the small metal door to the guts of the ship and gave him another warming hug, nestling her neck against his shoulder.

"I missed you." Keira wasn't allowed to know about Jak's mission to the Icelands, in fact the only people who knew about it was Ashelin, Torn and himself. Ashelin knew that some members of the Counsel were in Marcus or Rayn's pocket, so not even they knew about it. Daxter didn't even know why his friend disappeared for a month. It was extremely hush-hush because if Marcus were to find out that Jak was sneaking around on his turf there would be hell to pay. Because he found out anyway there would be hell to pay, however Marcus didn't know _why_ he was sneaking around. He had no idea that underneath ice and snow he had a hidden artefact that would get the Underground into space. Marcus would pay anything to have that ability, and he would kill as many people as necessary to get there. In other words, another war.

Jak hated to ruin the moment, but he still had a problem. "Keira I need to borrow some of your clothes."

"You're not exactly my size, Jak." Jak tried to find the words to tell his girlfriend that in his last little jaunt of his trip he had come back with another girl. Keira caught his expression. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Don't go AWOL on me, but I brought back a…refugee." Keira put two and two together, and as Jak suspected she assumed the worst.

"You disappear for a month without telling me, and you come back with another _woman_?" Fire burned in her eyes and she was ready to lash out to the extreme. Jak put two hands on her shoulders partly to keep her a safe distance away and partly to try to comfort her.

"She's just a kid, honest. I was caught by Marcus, part of the reason why I'm back so soon. I think she was one of his 'experiments'." Jak spoke very quickly, and as he did, Keira's eyes softened and she looked genuinely concerned. Genetic experimentation was a very touchy subject for Jak; she knew it, which was why she bought into the story without questioning it. Keira knew that he wouldn't make up something that extreme to hide her possible replacement.

"Where is she?" She asked softly.

"Back at the house."

"You left her there alone? What if Torn goes to pick something up? What if _Jinx_ goes home?" She looked disgusted at his thought process.

"She's unconscious, her door is locked, I did what I could. I needed to come see you," Yes, it was flattery and he hoped it would get him somewhere. "I also needed to ask you if you could look after her for a while."

"Ah, I see. Torn doesn't know yet." She said with a knowing look on her face. There was a time before that Jak needed to hide some items of…questionable legality at Keira's until he could get them off his hot little hands before Torn found out. Jak was not particularly afraid of Torn, it was Ashelin he had to look out for. Because of Torn's political obligation, he would by law need to tell her of anything suspicious that Jak was doing, therefore imposing Ashelin's wrath upon him.

"I haven't told him, doesn't mean he doesn't know." Torn had connections everywhere and it was no doubt that Marcus had contacted him and told Torn about his little escapade through the Fortress, complete with a repair bill.

"I'll come over in about an hour and pick her up. I want to finish this up." Jak assumed she wanted to try to get some navigational support up and running so we could test the beast out.

"When you say an hour, it usually amounts to three."

"An hour, I promise." She smiled, and Jak chose not to argue. He still needed to go debrief Torn and Ashelin which would take more than an hour he was sure, and he would delay them just in case. They shared a short kiss, and before things got too hot, he left for the palace to meet up with his boss'.

/---

Torn was in the middle of a monthly conference with the rest of the High Counsel, so he was forced to wait his turn in the throne room. These meetings were never interrupted unless it was something earth shattering, so he was betting on all calls to Torn's com being blocked. He was hoping Marcus could not have contacted him yet. He wouldn't know about girl. He amused himself for a short amount of time by finding the small ventilation shaft that he once used as an escape after warning Ashelin of the potential danger of the Precursor Stone. Ah, the good old days, where you knew who the bad guys were.

"Jak? What are you doing here?" Torn closed the large door silently behind him and had a confused expression on his face. Jak wasn't supposed to be back for another two weeks or so, depending on how fast he found the artefact.

"I interrupted, sorry."

"It's alright, it's nearly over. You didn't answer my question." Torn took his famous stance, putting his weight on one leg and crossing his arms across his chest, clearly saying I just spend three hours with dumb politicians, don't jerk me around.

"Mission was a success, though I did run in to a few bumps. I'd rather wait for Ashelin before I debrief you."

"You're stalling." Jak smiled.

"Absolutely."

While they were waiting, Torn brought him up to speed on what had happened while he was isolated from the rest of the world. Since the end of the Dark Maker war four years ago, the Underground immediately started thinking about making a more permanent base if they ever came close to an invasion again. They came once and did not get to farm their planet as they wanted…there was no doubt that they would be coming again. Of course, some sections of the catacombs that were useless because they were either a massive, gaping hole or it wasn't stable enough to put extremely expensive technology under or beds for the wounded. Torn told Jak that the four sections that they had been working on were completed, there were just a couple bugs in the communications that Vin was sorting out along with some hardware shorting. Torn suspected it was those damn scorpion metal heads chewing away at the wires. Despite the death of the metal head leader, there was still an uncanny amount of them around.

There was another reason that we had started a more permanent and protected home base, a more political reason. After Krew's escapade with the poisoning key members of the Underground, Rayn took over Kras City as if she owned it, and after doing a little research, we found that she did indeed have rightful ownership of Kras. Her father was born in Kras. He had bought out all the competitors, and after he had been killed in a 'work related accident' everything was left to his only daughter. Immediately Rayn knew that she needed an ally, and since Spargus and Haven were out of the question, a collation between the Icelands and Kras was formed. They knew that Rayn and Marcus were in constant communication with each other, planning something less than honourable. Officially neither of them was crime lords, but it did not take a genius to realize they had a hand in organized crime. Because of the lack of support to the theory, however, the High Counsel could do nothing to prosecute them, and it was very hard to gather some substantial evidence to support the fact that they controlled most of the major goons in all four regions.

What it all boils down to, there isa gang war coming. Rayn and Marcus both share the same view of government: absolutism, monarchy, call it what you like. If neither one of them is in complete control of everything, neither one of them is going to be happy. Presently Haven and Spargus combined were still no match for the Kras and the Icelands if it came down to open war. The best thing to do in that situation is to hide, which was exactly what the catacombs were made for. There was one easily accessible entrance, which is also easily defended, and an exit that was developed in the ceiling for aerial troops. The plan was that we would pick them off like flies when they came pillaging through the city. As long as Marcus and Rayn had no idea that the Underground was, uh, underground, it was a working strategy. Since Marcus knew that we were up to though, they might need a new plan.

"I know you've been itching to hear about the stats, so I archived some of the nastier races for your viewing pleasure." Torn said after his short update.

"That's unusually kind of you."

"I was going to delete them if you didn't retrieve the artefact."

He smiled. "Glad to hear things hasn't changed since I was gone." Jak said, hoping the meeting would end so he could debrief and catch up on how many records he needed to break. Before he could think too deeply on it, Ashelin came through the doors offering a much warmer welcome than Torn did.

"Welcome back Jak, I didn't expect to see you so soon." Like Keira, Ashelin gave him a quick hug to welcome him home, though Jak knew it was more to piss Torn off than make Jak feel welcome. Torn and Ashelin were 'taking a break'. Jak and the rest of the Underground were a little fuzzy on the details but they all kept it that way. They valued all their limbs attached to their bodies. "How did it go?"

"It went well, though I did make some noise. Before I start, I want to swear that this was all done for defensive purposes. I was provoked and shot at first in all cases." Torn kept a straight face, Ashelin didn't. Jak had a very bad habit of causing more collateral damage than was necessary. Jak quickly went through his long adventure in the barren ice wastelands and how everything went smoothly until just after he found the artefact and realized he was being followed, and ended up using all his dark powers in trying fruitlessly to avoid capture by the Azure Guard. When he went through the fortress, he left the girl completely out of it but made sure to include the conversation he overheard along with a couple of his guesses onto what he was planning. Gracefully they held all questions and any reprimands they planned to put him through until after he was done.

"So, he knows." Ashelin said, referring to thesudden expense onthe catacombs."You think he'll plan an attack with Rayn?"

Torn, being the strategist and possibly the only one who can understand Marcus' train of thought, answered her question. "He will, but not now. And he doesn't _know, _he just suspects. He's patient, he'll wait until it befits him. Right now, if he attacked he would only be doing it out of spite. Marcus doesn't know what we're doing down there, he's just suspicious of our intentions. Nonetheless, I would recommend upping patrols on the borders and start analyzing the import/export in the Strip. He may try and slip something through indiscreetly."

Ashelin nodded, her face solemn. "The extras will have to come from your unit. My troops are already booked on patrol duty along with construction."

"I'll see who I can spare."

"Can we get Marcus for something with that snippet of dialogue I so happened to overhear?" Jak asked, desperate to get Marcus thrown out of power and possibly prosecuted for something.

"Not with you as the only witness. Needless to say Jak, you're not exactly on the High Counsel's good side." Ashelin said bitterly, but not towards Jak. Even after all that Jak had done for the City the Counsel still avoided him at all costs because of his brief business relationship with Krew. Both Torn and Ashelin had vouched for him countless times, but no matter how much influence they had over the Counsel, it still couldn't shake their original views of him.

"Go get a couple hours of sleep, Jak. Have your report on my desk tomorrow, 0600. Understood?" Jak wasn't officially military, but he played along and did a half-hearted salute, dismissing himself. As he was leaving, he heard Torn and Ashelin bickering on who was going to be stuck with the paperwork. Jak shook his head.

As Jak exited, he nearly tripped over his three-foot tall furry friend. Jak stood there, looking down Daxter who seemed to be a little more than pissed. There was a couple moments of awkward silence, then Daxter said, "You could have called." He said, hopping on his rightful place on Jak's shoulder. "You know, just a little something to let me know that you were _alive_—"

"You're as bad as Keira," He said, hopping on his custom Zoomer. When Torn wasn't being a slave driver, Jak was usually seen in the garage working on vehicles as a hobby and a little extra cash. He made the Zoomer his own by making it of a thicker alloy, custom paint job and adding a thumb print ignition. Keira did the programming aspect of it, but Jak did the installing. Now if any smart-ass tried running off with his vehicle, a mini-turret came up and zapped him with enough volts to knock him unconscious until Jak could arrest him for attempted theft.

"Was I the last person you thought of seeing?" Daxter half yelled. "Me? Your best friend, who, I might remind you, has gotten you out of more jams than a butter knife? You didn't even bother to let me know when you hit town. I'm hurt Jak, I'm hurt." Abruptly, he changed tracks, ruining the effect of faked upset emotions. "Hey, head to the Naughty Ottsel. I want to show you something."

"Yes, oh fearless leader." Jak snapped his goggles on and launched off. He stayed on the hover level, nearly running over a few pedestrians, but they were well adept to Jak's less-than-conservative driving, so no blood was shed.

"So, where were you, really?" He sounded interested, but underneath that sincerely hurt. Jak felt a slight guilt twinge. If it had been anyone but Torn giving the order of absolute secrecy, he would have blown the cover and brought Daxter with him. This was the first mission that Dax hadn't been on, let alone not known about.

"The Icelands. Artefact hunting."

"That's it? That was the mission? How come I couldn't come?" He whined at Jak.

"Because you're orange." Jak was not kidding when he said it; Dax would have stood out like a sore thumb against the snow while Jak was camouflaged.

"That is so racist. I can get Torn fired for that." Jak laughed. He had missed his friend over the month he had been gone, his constant bantering wasn't there while Jak was aimlessly wandering the wasteland of ice and snow. Though Dax's loud voice would have probably attracted some unwanted attention, it would have been more than welcome.

"So what have you been doing while I was gone?"

"Oh ho, that's what you're here to see my uncultured friend." They had reached the Naughty Ottsel, a large construction sign saying CLOSED FOR REPAIRS beside the door. Daxter reached in his pocket, grabbed the keys to the bar and handed them to Jak. He walked in and was overwhelmed with the smell of fresh paint, and instantly disoriented.

"Wow." Jak said instantly, closing the door behind him. Everything was rearranged, remodelled and redone all together. The pole in the middle of the room was gone, instantly clearing things up. Directly in front of him replacing the bar was a large stage complete with stage curtain, devoid of any equipment, but what it was for Jak could guess. After the war, Torn had moved the Southern HQ elsewhere and Dax had been thinking of expanding the bar to add some live music for the weekends. Above the stage was the metal head leader's head, which added a little something. The stage seemed to be the only thing that was completely finished, the rest of the place was covered in plastic. Chairs and stools were still yet to be placed at the bar, now to his left, and at the sitting area, which was now completely opened up into a large fish bowl. Everything was open and looked bigger, it felt bigger. "Did you take out a wall or something?"

"Yeah, just for the stage though. Ya like it?"

"I'm impressed. And this only took you four weeks?"

"What can I say, I'm a genius." Dax jumped down from his shoulder and headed towards the stage, Jak followed.

"You got the construction guys at the catacombs to do it for you, didn't you?"

"They gave me a discount." Jak hoisted himself up on the stage and took in his new surroundings, amazed at the change. The nasty pictures of Krew and his supposed wife were gone, and the tacky neon lights were abolished. "This should bring some new business in, yeah?" Dax stood beside him, nearly coming to Jak's head sitting down.

"It had better. I have no doubt that this cost a damn fortune."

"Everyone pitched in a little bit, even the military man. So I'm only waist deep in debt." Both listened to the humming of the lights working, speaking without words. When two people were close, they seemed to do it unconsciously and wondered later why people couldn't follow their conversation. "Grand opening is going to be next month. I still need to hire someone to do the color coordinating job and order in some equipment. Eventually I'll need an opening band. Someone local, you know, someone the regulars could identify with and that will bring in a big crowd…" He trailed off so Jak assumed he wanted his input.

"Start booking now, Kras has the best but they need plenty of advance warning. Get IR, they get the biggest crowds but they're almost always—"

"I was thinking Vermicular Apathy." He said, unusually serious.

"What?" The comment went two feet over Jak's head.

"You, Sig and Jinx have something going, and if anything would bring a crowd it would be some of the hardcore members of the Underground trying to entertain the public." Dax plopped himself down beside Jak and waited for an answer. On a whim, Jak had taken up electric guitar and found he had some skill in an area that did not involve violence. He found out that Sig used to play when he was a teenager in a small grunge band, so he was recruited on bass. Jinx wasn't bad at the drum set, so they had a band. It was a joke, really. They had composed a couple songs but nothing out of the ordinary; it was just a healthier way of relieving stress for the three of them. Vermicular Apathy was something Jinx had come up with, and it stuck because it made absolutely no sense. Vermicular meant wavy, or wormy,and put that together with apathy…Wavy Lazy? Wavy Lack-Of-Interest? They laughed over it, but it had a cool ring to it so it stayed as a label for their small ensemble.

"So, what do you say?" Dax broke the silence and brought him out of his musings.

"Why would you want us? We're a garage band that gets together once a week for kicks. We don't really have any special talent."

"Because you'll do it if I don't pay you." Daxter smiled sweetly, and Jak caught on to his whole ploy. Of course, since he had just spent all this money on rebuilding the place, he couldn't possibly get someone big. If he couldn't get someone big, the crowds would be small and he wouldn't make enough profit, so he needed something so original that people would pay to see it. Yep, Vermicular Apathy was original all right. In more ways than one.

* * *

I put the idea of Jak, Jinx and Sig in a band because we have grand plans for it. You probably won't hear much about it for a while, though. I'm just throwing the idea out. This is a fan fic, no? We can dream! Hopefully next update will be next Saturday, but with exams all next weekI might completely forget about it.


	3. Chapter 2

_Yeah, alright, guess who updated like she said she would? This excerpt is fairly short, just becasue we've decided to edit a few things beforewe add the next part. Enter Mystery Women #2, stage right._

**NOTE**: We **do not** own any of Naught Dog's characters, names, places, or anything else I fail to mention. Just the plot and it's many holes.

* * *

Chapter 2

She was tired, but she didn't realize how tired until she stepped out of the bar and her legs ceased to function somewhere in the middle of the street. She was sure that it wasn't because she had drunk too much; she only had five or six pints. Ah well, a little nap and she'd be up and running again in no time. The woman yawned and found a semi comfortable position with her arm as a pillow.

Kleiver would wonder where she was if she didn't get back in a couple hours, but he wouldn't worry. After only a couple weeks in Kras she had managed to get herself into a fight, and most fights the woman found out usually ended with a race of some sort. Fine with her, she could race with the best of them. Because she was so confident in her victory, she let him lead by five seconds. When the seemingly new champion came around the finish line and apparently shaving a two seconds off one of their outstanding records, no one doubted her abilities as a racer. They left her alone, though she had acquired a tag name: Spooks. She let it stick, and fluffed up some of the rumours that the people of the city had started to spread since her first race. The Demon Racer some called her because of her impossible speed and apparently unlimited amount of weapons in combat. It gave her the advantage she needed when she was searching for info or short on credits. It also gave Spooks a job at Kleiver's garage.

Spooks became aware of the group before they rounded the corner, but was too lazy to move to avoid them. When they saw her the group of men didn't seem to really _see_ who she was, or were to drunk to care. They thought they were being incredibly sneaky, but it seemed to her that there was a flashing neon sign attached to their heads saying DUNCE, and their movements were far too cautious and made them clumsy.

Spooks was surrounded, and taken for the, oh so original, helpless female. Unfortunately for them, she wasn't helpless and was in a piss poor mood for interrupting her nap.

"Hey there sweetie," The man's voice got on nerves she wasn't even aware she had.

"Fuck off, bitches. Death to any who touch me." Spooks said feircly, wondering what they would do. They were silent for a time, so she opened her eyes slightly to see one of them give an encouraging push to one of the larger guys toward her. Obviously, they weren't used to a woman threatening them. Damn feminists.

The big guy stumbled towards her, and as soon as he was within reach Spooks grabbed his ankle and pulled, sending him crashing to the ground, unconscious. Two more charged at once, one in front and one behind, so she was forced to change positions to take them out. Canning the one in front of her with a swift kick, she brought the other down by tripping him the same way she did the first. Their observation skills were horrid.

Spooks got up to find a more secluded place to sleep but there were still three guys left, and one had a knife on them. They all charged at once before she could get very far. She disarmed Mr. I'm-so-cool-I-have-a-knife-I-don't-know-how-to-use, and slit his throat, letting him fall to the ground. Changing her grip, she stabbed another in the upper thigh, which caused a fatal wound, and at the same time kicked the last one hard in the chest with a loud crack. Both went down, and she seemed to be mildly disappointed. She only killed one, and fatally injured one. The rest would live, but would have a headache in the morning.

A man emerged from the shadows, and her shoulders sagged. Let me sleep, dammit! She looked closer however, and judging by his clothing. he was definitely not the fighting type. My god, was that a cape? "Wonderful. Amazing. Simply spectacular – though I would expect nothing less from you, Spooks." No, no, just an overcoat. His voice was soft and his movements smooth, slimy as an eel this one. The voice clearly said that he thought he was a ladies man, and he could get whatever he wished whenever he pleased. She turned her back on him and walked away. She was not in the mood to stay and chitchat with Marcus. "Spooks, I wouldn't depart quite yet." She kept walking. "I have a money proposition for you," The slickness in his voice was gone, strictly business. Money was always her soft spot because she always seemed to be in short of it.

Without turning around she stopped, and waited for more. "There is a group that I have wanted to infiltrate for sometime, they have been a nuisance and have been making any business transactions of mine difficult to complete." Translation: my criminal activities. They had been business acquaintances long enough that she could follow his well thought out bullshit. "Recently they have stolen an important specimen of mine, and I want it back. Your final wage will be detrimental on how many of the Underground you kill along the way." Death and destruction? She whipped around to see him pulling out an envelope out of the inside of his coat pocket, holding it out for her to take. "This is a down payment for your services." She walked the short distance, snatched the envelope and looked inside. Inside there was a small, transparent card, similar to the one she already owned. Spooks pulled the small piece of paper that was with it and looked at it. Five mil. "I daresay that will cover any modifications that you choose to put on your vehicle, along with racing fees." He smirked, knowing he had her.

"So what's this thing I'm retrieving?"

"A small girl. Her features stand out significantly, you will recognize her when you see her. It is imperative that I get her back unharmed." Spooks bit her tongue. She did not have many morals, but human experimentation really toed the line. On a kid no less. She stared at the envelope and then imagined what she could do to pimp out her ride. Most of the vehicles she owned were already modified up to ying-yang, but they lacked a certain 'coolness' and a better sound system. "She will undoubtedly be staying somewhere near the governor under heavy watch. You will have the disposal of any of my resources, such as weapons and your small legion of men when you are ready."

"Free weapons, my army, I get to kill things and I'm getting paid. What's the catch?" With Marcus, there always seemed to be invisible strings attatched.

"No catch. If this goes well, you will be able to live comfortably for the rest of your life." She doubted it, but flew with it and pocketed the card as he held out another small piece of paper. "One more thing. To motivate you this is a list of how much each member is worth to me dead, or in one case alive. If you get information that I can use from any one of them before they're untimely death, they're bounty is doubled." She took it without looking; she would use it as a reference when the job was done.

"You do realize that if I don't get my money, I will take great pleasure in bleeding you."

He nodded. "Of course."

Spooks put her hands on his shoulders as if she was going to thank him in that mushy-girl way that the women here seemed so found of, but instead brought her knee to his stomach, which sent him gasping to the ground. "That's for sending you're goons one me." With that, she walked away, wondering if he would get that one guy some medical attention before he bled to death.


	4. Chapter 2:2

_Murder me later, I was a day late. But hey, here's the update anyway. Enter mysterious contact, stage left._

**NOTE:** We **do not** own any of Naughty Dog's characters, names, places, or anything else I fail to mention. Just the plot and its many holes.

* * *

Jak felt around for the alarm clock that dared to wake him, and slammed down on the snooze button. It kept ringing. Swearing he lifted his head from his pillow and realized it wasn't his alarm, it was his communicator buzzing at him. Jak pressed a small button on the red device so that he could answer it with audio instead of video.

"What?" He said groggily, putting the com beside his head so he could lie back down.

"It's six o' one, and you're report isn't here."

It took a moment for it to process. "Dammit!" Jak whipped the covers off and Torn told him to be at his office damn quick.

"I have another mission for you, so get here." Click. Jak threw a clean tunic on walked over to the display that still held his four-page report that he typed up last night before crashing, but forgot to send off. He found Torn's secure IP address and sent it. Normally he would not really care about his report, and neither would Torn. He would just ask to be debriefed and that was the end of it, but this time he needed a hard copy of what Jak had heard while he was escaping custody to give to the High Counsel. They realized that it wouldn't get Marcus sacked but they might be able to raise some question to weaken his reliability.

Jak hopped on one foot on his way to the kitchen for some breakfast, aka coffee, while putting on his boots. He was slightly annoyed that he couldn't have one day's grace before getting back to work, but then he thought about what he would do if he did have the day off. Sit around. Do nothing. He had three jobs that kept him busy 24/7; racing was a career, missions for Torn, and then his moneymaking hobby at the garage fixing up cars. It's amazing what people were willing to pay to have him just _look_ at their vehicle let alone do anything to it. The tracks were closed every Sunday for maintenance, so usually today Jinx, Sig and himself would get together but he doubted they knew he was back yet.

"Hey Dax, you awake?" He yelled in the general direction of Dax's hidey-hole while he grabbed some cold coffee from the fridge. There was a vague mumble, and then a thump. He was coming. By the time he had guzzled down his cold mocha, he was awake and Daxter was so obviously not. His fur was miffed and his eyes barely open, but he dragged his feet towards Jak anyway. "Do you want me to carry you?" Jak asked, slightly sarcastic.

"I can walk just fine…mind your own…" His words were slightly slurred with fatigue, and as soon as he attempted to take another step forward, he fell face first on the ground. Though he would hear about it later, Jak decided to leave him where he was and go on the mission without him.

Jak wondered why Torn's office wasn't in the palace – he was governor after all, so shouldn't he be closer to the political base? For whatever reason, Torn's office was located in the Industrial Sector, south of the Slums where the house that Sig has so generously rented to them for sleep off's for in-between missions was located. Everyone but Torn called it The Box, because that's what it was. One twenty by twenty two room attached to what could pass as a six by nine cell that served as his 'bedroom'. The big room consisted of a couch, a desk, a fridge and a large safe that held all his toys. For years Jak and Jinx had been trying to get him to move somewhere with breathing room, and yet he's still there. The drive was short, but Jak took the speed down a notch anyway because despite the buzz from the caffeine his reflexes were going to be a little slow if some arse decided to cut in front of him.

"Took you long enough." He said as soon as the door opened.

"I only took," Jak glanced at his watch. "…seven minutes since you called."

"You left something out of your report." Jak was silent as Torn spun around in his chair, trying to chip away at his skull to get to his brain with those eyes of his. Torn could have you confessing to the murder of your mother in less than thirty minutes. "Marcus got a hold of me last night."

"Oh." Jak stared at point just above Torn's penetrating eyes, trying to figure out if he was talking about the absence of the girl or something else entirely.

"Aside from the fact that you caused a couple hundred grand worth of damage, he told me that you had kidnapped his sister." Sister? Jak made a sour face. He didn't see the family resemblance. "I know you did, I met her last night when I asked Keira if she knew anything about it. I also know that she is not his sister, she looks nothing like him."

"Did you just try to be funny?" Jak asked, stunned by his last remark.

Ignoring him, he went on. "I told Marcus that you had said she died somewhere between the elevator and the explosion in the lab. I added it in your report before I sent it off to the Counsel for consideration."

Jak didn't have the strategic mind that Torn had, so he failed to see why that was necessary. "Why'd you do that?"

"If we tell Marcus that she's dead, he would have no reason to believe otherwise. He would know, but he would have no reason to be untrusting of our word and therefore couldn't make a public announcement without causing some upheaval in the High Council. I want to keep her around and interrogate her when she can stand on her own two feet. I don't know how long she's been under Marcus' roof, but hopefully he did some nasty things to make her mad enough to talk." The way Torn worded it sound as if he didn't care what the girl had gone through, just that she had information that could help them. Frankly, Jak agreed. One sacrifice to get Marcus out of the way was well worth it. The girl was probably tortured, and knowing Marcus experimented on, so she would no doubt be more than happy to see him behind bars. "Why did you leave her out in the first place?"

Jak shrugged. "My rap sheet is big enough without adding kidnapping to the mix." He was rewarded with a smirk from Torn, not an easy feat to accomplish.

"Go down to the catacombs and help Vin with the rewiring. If he had hands he would do it himself, but he doesn't and I can't spare any right now."

"That's the mission?" Jak was disappointed at the lack of demolition that came with the job.

"You expected something more extravagant?"

"Actually a raid would sit really nice right now." About once a month, the Underground would get a good tip on some sort of illegal activity going down in Haven or Spargus, but mostly Kras. Not surprisingly, Marcus seemed to keep his criminal activities close knit because they still have yet to get dirt on him. Raid's were usually short, violent, and always bloody. Judging by Torn's expression, he missed this month's deal while he was wading through snow.

"Since you're back early, I have nothing official for you to do for the next few days. You just nominated yourself for making sure our newcomer doesn't get into too much trouble. She doesn't leave wherever you decide to keep her; tongues will wag if she does. I don't need word reaching Marcus about my blatant lie."

_-- Yes, yes, I realize there is a huge time gap in here. Get used to it. I played with a lot of ides to fill it up, but none of them seemed to be relevant enough. It is now close to midnight, and in Torn's POV --_

With the bass beating against the walls of the club he walked out of the stall, dodging a couple that deemed it necessary to bring their infatuation out in public. Torn carried the small duffle bag to a locker nearby, his uniform and the small tool he used to be rid of his tattoos hidden. Before locking it, he took his hair out of the tight rows that usually kept his it out of the way and let the wavy locks fall around his face. He mussed with his hair a bit to make it appear more natural, and threw the ties in with the duffle bag, locking it. Because he never let his hair down in public Torn was unused to feeling it loose, but for undercover missions he needed to be completely unrecognizable.

Torn examined his appearance in a nearby mirror and was happy with the result. The tool his used to be rid of his visible tattoos did a good job. It altered his skin tone perfectly. Only in bright light would the outlines be visible for the next couple of hours. With his hair out from it's usual strict state and the dark racing clothes he was wearing, even Ashelin would walk right past him without even considering he was the same person.

Torn checked both his guns to be sure they were loaded before holstering and covering them with the leather jacket he had picked up the other day. With the long-sleeved shirt he was wearing, it would be warm, but there was no way he was showing off his hardware; that was a fight waiting to happen. In Kras, everybody packed, but nobody showed it.

He walked out into the night air and headed towards the Bloody Hook. For the past few months, he had been meeting someone, an informant that usually had information that his other citywide sources have not told him yet. He didn't know he was talking to the governor of Haven City, he just thought Torn was a close friend of Jak's which in all technicalities was true. If Eddie had known he was talking to someone of high rank, he would bolt. This guy was into illegal trades, pharmaceutical and otherwise, which is why he made such a good rat. The rat was soft though. Eddie decided that he wanted to get out of the business, so he had Torn agree to pull him out when the time was right in return for insider information.

Secrecy was imperative. Like Jak's mission to the Iceland's, if anyone found out he was mucking around, the Council would become apprehensive and he would probably be suspended from duty for suspicion of treason. If Torn was suspended it was guaranteed that things would start to go to hell; Ashelin was fine leader but he doubted she would be able to handle her political duties as well as be proficient in handling a team for monthly raids. One or the other would start to slip.

Of course, if just such a thing occurred Torn did have a back-up plan. Jak was trained well enough to hold a team together and with Torn's discreet help he would be able to direct a platoon if necessary. He would not enjoy it because he would not be right in the action but he could do it until the mass of red tape blew over. His plan was to as quickly as possible to promote him to a position that didn't exist yet, a second to Torn. Torn never found the need to have a second because he was never in a high enough rank to bother with it, however now that he was governor and doing things behind the Counsel's back, he would need one.

Torn reached the Bloody Hook and after walking in to the dimly lit bar he had the urge to wipe his hand on his pants to get the grime off, but resisted as he inhaled the wonderfully fresh smell of fish, beer and smoke. Grunge like this was common in Kras. A display was droning off some stats for racing in the corner. He glanced around for any familiar faces, and found none. Two men were sitting at the bar watching while drinking and taking occasional drags from their cigs. Another was passed out on a table to his left with an empty longneck in his hand, and his informant sitting in a corner with a hood over his head. Torn nodded to the bar tender through a cloud of smoke, a large black man who knew him by sight as a regular, signalling for two of the usual. Torn pulled up a chair and sat in silence, waiting for him to speak. He would when he was ready.

Drinks arrived and Eddie put his now empty one down and went for the second. He clanked to the left and right to be sure no one was hanging over his shoulder. He took a drink and Torn got a glimpse of his haggard face. Torn understood his need for concealment. His face was scar filled from defending his small sow of possessions. A piece of his ear was missing, and because he could not afford a bionic eye, a gaping hole replaced it. Even in such a shady place as Kras, people didn't react well to him, which had turned him into a bitter, resentful person.

"Got something big." He said so quietly Torn needed to lean forward to hear. "Marcus is on to the Underground. The ship they found, he knows about it."

"What?" Torn said a little too loudly, struck by the comment. They had taken every security precaution available to man to keep knowledge of the Dark Maker ship getting out. "When?"

"Found out just yesterday. This is just a rumour, but apparently he hired someone to off everyone associated with Underground."

It was a rumour worth looking into. "Any names?" Torn doubted it, but he asked every time anyway.

Eddie shook his head. "Rumour also has it that he hired a woman." Torn let it sink in, trying to

make some sense of it. Then it clicked into place. Of course. The girl Jak had brought back.

"Anything else?" Torn said half-heartedly. Eddie took a swig of his drink, looking towards the door.

"When am I getting out, Konan?" Konan was his fathers name as well as his alias.

"Give the word. Set up a deal worth going for. I'll vouch for you when they bring you in."

"And you're word alone is enough?" Sarcasm and disbelief tore through his voice, past experiences of betrayal and dishonesty coming back to him.

"I have a lot of influence." Torn had told him this before, but Eddie never quite believes him.

He let out a barking laugh, a sudden noise that made Torn and the few people in the bar jump.

"No one person has that much Konan. For all I know you're one of those damn Freedom Guards waiting for the right moment to take me in."

"Trust goes both ways. There is nothing stopping you from ratting me out and sending me to the Iron Island." Iron Island was a common term for the prison just off Mar's Coliseum. "Things are tight right now so I understand you're hesitation, but you need to trust me." Eddie thought about it, chewed on the fact like a sour tasting candy. He nodded his head as if he was having a conversation with himself that torn couldn't hear, and ran a finger around the rim of the large mug that he was holding.

"Midj is bringing some heavy hardware to the docks, shipping overseas to an island off the coast of Spargus. I'll be there." Eddie cleared his throat and got up, Torn following him out after wiping his translucent card over the panel by the wall to pay for whatever Eddie had that night along with a tip. Eddie was just outside the door, walking away as Torn followed him down the dark street at a brisk pace, hoping for another tidbit. "I don't know if this is any interest to the Underground, but Damas' will was recovered today." Torn wasn't expecting that.

"He had a will?"

"Apparently. In the event of Damas' death, his son is supposed to take over rule of Spargus when he turns twenty-one. Wasn't his son kidnapped when he was just a kid? Anyway, because he's missing depending on who it is, it could cause some problems with your only ally." There was a pause as he looked behind him. "We're being followed. Go through the sewers to get to the transport, no one will follow you down there." Suddenly Eddie turned right and disappeared in the thin crowd like water into a thirsty desert. Discreetly, for his own reassurance more than anything, he took the safety off both guns. Before Eddie and Torn had been acquainted, Torn had been busy trying to build a rep under the name Konan so he would not be bothered every time he decided to show his face on main street, but not enough to become infamous. The locals knew him as a softie, but a sharpshooter and someone not to be messed with.

Torn calculated the risk about going back and retrieving his belongings but deciding against it, thinking it was not worth it. He didn't lock away his only uniform, though he would have to improvise with the hair. He didn't need the skin toner to reverse the effects. After a two city blocks he took a detour through a restaurant kitchen to get to a cellar that would lead to sewer system down below and to a transport pad that lead to Haven. Torn checked the time. It was nearly one in the morning, and it would be later when he finally got back home.

When he was down the manhole to the sewer's he became anxious in the narrow pathway, afraid that someone could come up behind him and assassinate him without any warning. Incrementally, he kept looking over his shoulder as he tried to work out some sort of plan. There was no reason for him to off the girl right now for the better of the Underground, but there were two flaws in this plan: Jak would never speak to him again, so he would loose a friend and comrade in the process. Unless he explained himself, there would be problems. Giving reasons to off the girl brought about problem number two. This would give light to the fact that he had been meeting with a contact whose loyalty could be questioned.

As he climbed the ladder to his ticket to fresh air, he concluded that he would need to tell Jak about his suspicions. He may not do anything about it but he knew the word would put him on his guard. Torn programmed the coordinates for home into the transport and sat down to deal with his other headache.

The finding of a will from Damas was bad news. If it were ever made public Sig would have a mutiny on his hands. Spargus' people weren't a violent bunch, but as soon as they found out their beloved leader's son was still _alive, _there would be an uprising. Damas did well for his people out in the desert, and the people still hadn't finished mourning. Eddie didn't know it, but Jak would be the one who would take over when he was of age, which was in a couple of months. As good as a kid he was, he was not ready to lead a country. Jak had a group of elite men that he was in charge of, but leading group of friends and leading a nation were two entirely different things. He would not be able to be anymore than a figurehead, and Torn knew that would piss him off because Jak always needed to be eyeball deep in gunfire to be happy. Being a ruler would not be enough to satisfy his thirst for violence for long.

As he walked off the transport and headed towards home, Torn imagined a conversation between Jak and himself as he walked towards home, finding what he was coming up with amusing. Though you didn't know you're father Jak, and he didn't really know who you were, he wanted to leave Spargus to you doing in the event of his premature death. Don't worry though, politics will be as boring as hell and you'll probably want to kill yourself after hearing constant bullshit after the first two weeks. The Counsel is going to be scrutinizing your every move because they expect nothing less than perfection from their local delinquent. Make sure you learn all the rules within the next month and a half or so. Oh, by the way, the girl you picked up is probably going to assassinate you in your sleep so be on your guard. Yes, Torn thought, this conversation will go smoothly.

To pull him out of his slight distress was his com buzzing on his belt. Concern took over him when Torn flipped it open to see Ashelin's haggard face on the other line. "The Strip is gone, Torn." She said quietly.

"What do you mean gone?" He asked, not understanding.

"There is a great gaping hole between the transport pad and the docking bay."

"That's what, five clicks?" He tried to picture a crater that was about five kilometres long in the Seaport Strip, but it was too large for his brain to handle this early in the morning. "That's not possible."

"Tell that to the guys that worked here. Get down here and bring a team. There's still heavy debris to clean up." She hung up without giving him any further details. Torn looked at his surroundings and realized he was in the middle of the Industrial Sector with houses of various Freedom Guards houses surrounding him. He headed towards one that's light was still on, and knocked. Jinx answered the door, the men behind him looking at the door in question. As luck would have it, he had caught them on a poker night or something. Jinx's mouth dropped, nearly letting his constantly present cig fall out at Torn's appearance. Torn hoped his tattoos at the very least had materialized. "I need your expertise, Jinx." He looked taken aback at the comment.

"I have expertise?" Over Jinx's shoulder, Torn ordered the other five or so men to follow him, explaining the situation at the Strip on the way to the transport. He could tell by the tense silence that followed they all thought it was too early in the morning for this shit.

* * *

_We'reaiming for the next one to be next Saturday, and you'll find out just how bad things are. Hold your breath, the next step is a doozy._


	5. Chapter 2:3

_Kableuy...just as a warning, there isn't going to be an update next week. Rede doesn't have a working computer, and I have a gig, so I'm not going to update, but I am going to use this moment to do a little advertising. clears throatUPTIGHT EPILEPTIC! Check us out at _

**NOTE:**We **do not** own any of Naught Dog's characters,names, places, and anything else I fail to mention. Just the plot and it's many holes.

* * *

They stepped off the transport pad and nearly into water below them. The crater was almost a perfect circle, and about as big as Torn estimated. In the distance, he could see flashlights scanning the ground. Eco and other condiments being shipped in from the different regions, and exported to different regions, had just been destroyed; working pulleys and other machines used for lifting crates had been obliterated. The one watchtower in the vicinity was no more than a large stump of concrete. In the distance, you could see part of the docking bay with two of the remaining ships. "Ain't the smell of burnt corpses grand?" Jinx said as they stepped off the landing pad onto the small bit of concrete that was left. One of the guys gave a low whistle as Ashelin few over with a fleet of Hellcats. She dropped low enough for Torn to jump on, so he did. Ashelin seemed amused at his casual appearance.

"Did I catch you in the middle of club hopping?" She said sarcastically.

"Yes." By Torn's tone of voice and shortness of answer, she dropped the subject.

"We found a piece of whatever did this near one of the possible blast points. It had AG markings on it. We're not positive its part of what caused the blast, so we sent it to the lab."

Torn shook his head at what she was implying. "Marcus wouldn't be that stupid." Despite their differences, Torn really admired Marcus for his ability of precision and strategy in a combat and political situation. If he were not so…evil, he would be on the first boat here for recruitment.

"So he slipped." Ashelin shrugged it off as they reached solid ground, which was covered in a sleek layer of oil from tipped over canisters.

"No, he doesn't just slip. There is some grand plan behind this." The Hellcat landed, and she shut it off so she could make eye contact with him. "He could have struck at a much more tactical spot, instead of just destroying some of our supplies. A few lives were lost and this will cut a hole in our budget but nothing much more. Who called it in?"

"One of Arik's boys." Something must have shown on Torn's face at the mention of his name because she instantly started to defend him. "Don't start with that conspiracy about him against Haven, Torn. I swear you're so—"

"How do you know he doesn't have something to do with this? The mishap in the Port, he was right there. The power surge in the Station, there's our boy Arik with one of his own fixing the problem before it even reaches my ears. In the last few months there have been little things going wrong and it has been in a position to make him look good."

"He's going to be Baron, Torn! He needs the people to—" She stopped herself before she got any farther, staring at the wheel very hard, biting her lip. Torn swallowed and tried very hard not to be furious with her. He could tell by her body language that he was not meant to know. Soon after Ashelin had left Torn officially a few months ago, she had started dating one of the younger men of the High Counsel and for that reason he had been trying to find some reason to arrest him. Unconsciously he knew it was jealous reasoning, but the other side of Torn knew he was someone's errand boy. Unfortunately, everyone was against him on his reservations.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, and that you're not going to say it until the official announcement next week." He said shortly, exiting the vehicle to try to piece together what had happened here. Business, concentrate on business. "Jinx, what do you got for me?" Torn stepped carefully over chunks of metal and concrete over to Jinx, who was examining a wall that was black except for a few spots resembling paintball splatter.

"Not much. I don't know of anything that can cause this big of a bang without excessive force, and any heavy buying of explosives would have alerted us to something. Of course, if it was Marcus, as we'd like to assume, he could have known that eco could have magnified the blasts if he used a large amount of Plasmite. Damn scientists."

"Blasts? As in plural?"

"Yeah, see these marks here?" He traced some patterns on the wall with his penlight as he took a drag on his cig that looked like normal marks of mini-mines. "See how there's a curve here, there, and then way down here? It's like probes being set up in the vicinity and being set off at different heights, different times. On the other hand, maybe these were simple smoke grenades to cause a distraction for that bad boy. Can't say for sure, but I'm guessing more than one guy was in on this. Even with remote detonation, it be pretty hard to get the timing right." He shrugged. "My money's on Marcus and his cronies. Rayn doesn't have the brains for this."

"I'll keep it in mind."

After his chat with Jinx, Torn ditched his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and went around helping with the mop up and the setting up of a spotlight, so they could see what they were doing. As he was hoisting up some supports for the massive spotlights, he felt eternally grateful that it wasn't his duty to alert the family of the dead. Some of them, as cruel as it might sound, there wasn't enough body left to put in a bag. Someone offered the suggestion of a bucket. He blew it off, thinking it was morally wrong to scoop the remains of someone into a bucket. One does not carry around a human in metal can.

------

Jak was irritated when for the second morning in a row he was forced to wake up at an inhumane hour by the noise of his communicator going off. Keira groaned beside him and covered her head with her pillow as Jak reached over and grabbed the small device, again disabling video. "If you're not Torn, I'm hanging up." Jak said wearily, laying back down and putting the mic near his face.

Surprisingly it was not Torn, but someone equally important: Sig. "Where is she?" There was no need to ask who 'she' was. He sounded anxious about something, so Jak answered.

"In a spare room. Hopefully sleeping. Why?"

"She's a planted assassin." If Jak had not lacked the energy, he would have laughed aloud. Instead, he yawned.

"Ri-ight. Well, if that was all—"

"I'm serious, Cherrie. I just got the word from Torn."

"Torn can go suck on it."

"Torn is rarely wrong, Jak." There was a first time for everything.

"Do you have anything to prove this, other than one of Torn's street contacts?"

"No, but—"

"I rest my case. Well if that's all, if you don't mind I have a date with my pillow."

"That's not all, don't you hang up rookie—"

" 'Night, Sig." He hung up before Sig could tell him any more wishy-washy theories about a girl who could barely stand was supposedly plotting their deaths. It was set firmly in his mind that she was no harm to him or the Underground, or else he would never have brought her within a mile of Keira. Despite his firm beliefs however, after shutting his com off he tore the covers off and got out of bed.

The house was still in a dim twilight, and did nothing to lighten Jak's mood. He was awake thinking before the sun was even fully up. On his way to check on the girl, he made a detour to the kitchen and flipped on the coffee machine for a fresh pot. Now that he was up, it was unlikely he would be getting back to sleep. As quietly as he could he opened the door to the spare room a fraction of an inch to make sure she was still there; she was, but she was also fully awake, perched on the edge of a bed with one of Keira's many books in her hand. Jak invited himself in.

She turned around at the sound of the door opening. The girl had found the bathroom and had cleaned herself up, putting on the set of clothes that were sitting there the day before. Her long hair was tied back bringing more focus to her strange silver eyes, which were bleary and without sleep. Keira's clothes were a little baggie on her, and considering Keira's size, it was worrisome. Jak saw her wrists had a thin pink line around them, her skin still raw from the binds that had held her.

They stood there in a slightly awkward silence. The aroma of coffee was wafting from the kitchen through the open door. "Want some food?" Jak said, suddenly hungry. She didn't move, just stared at him intently. Jak left. If she were hungry, she would come down and eat something.

Sure enough, she did. By the time Jak had finished his first dose of caffeine, she had made her way downstairs and sat herself at the small table across from Jak. He looked up from the magazine he was reading and watched her take bite after dainty bite of an apple that was sitting in a fruit basket that he had put out to snack on. "We were never really introduced. I'm Jak." The girl looked like she was trying to decide what to say, if she should bother talking or just make a run for it.

"Jaska." She said finally, staring at the table.

"Unusual name." He thought about it and took the first syllable of it to make a more time-savvy name; hers sounded like it was something out of his own past. "Jaz. I like that better, you'll fit in more." Jak said, talking to himself really but also hoping to provoke her into saying something. He took a sip of coffee and offered Jaz some, but she declined. "I'm going to need to leave you here with Keira for a while. I need to go to my shop and sort things out – it's been out of my hands for the better part of a month. Daxter's been busy with the bar, so I doubt he paid much attention to it." He added somewhat bitterly. Sure, Dax had his own things to do, but checking on the new kid that was working for him wouldn't take long. "Hmm. I'm going to need to take a trip to the tracks too, see what kind of butt I can kick. My Havoc has been in complete neglect, the engine is probably covered in a layer of dust—" Suddenly two arms slowlycame around his neck from behind, distracting him completely.

"Now I know you weren't thinking of racing on the only day off that Torn has given you, right?" Keira put her cheek up against his, and smiled sweetly.

"Oh but honey, I'm entertaining our guest."

"By going out and tinkering with your car?" She raised an eyebrow.

"She expressed a great interest for it."

"She hasn't said a word since she got here. Strike one." She backed up and put her hands on her hips.

"I'll give her some, uh, cultural enrichment."

"Strike two."

"I am going to stay home, and flirt endlessly with my girlfriend."

"And he hits a homerun, ladies and gentlemen! Good boy." She patted him on the head, and went to help herself to the semi-fresh pot of caffeine. Over the past long while, they both never really had time for each other. Keira had been consumed by the Dark Maker ship, Jak was constantly on missions or in the catacombs doing what he could to help. Every now and then, they were able to catch lunch together, but that was as far as the romance went. Jak missed it, Keira missed it, so her notions to stop him from leaving the house today were understandable, and Jak would follow through. For a few hours, anyway.

There was a loud and obnoxious knock on the door. "If it's Torn, tell him your baking cookies." Jak knew it was Torn, probably responding to the ignored warning that Sig had given him.

"Apparently I'm busy Torn, so—" Jak said as he opened the door, but stopped in mid-sentence, stunned by his appearance. For one, he was out of uniform, and for another there was blood stained over his clothes and oil smeared on his arms and face. A funny odour of something unpleasant burning was coming off him. Jak stepped outside and closed the door behind him, yelling was no doubt about to commence. "I'm going to assume the blood isn't yours, or you'd be limping."

"And I'm going to assume that if I walked in to take a shower the girl wouldn't be sitting in the kitchen having coffee."

"Well, she's not having coffee."

"Don't be naïve, Jak."

"What you told Sig is complete bull."

"And how would you know?"

"Gut instinct. Don't give me that look. My gut has never been wrong." If it weren't for his

internal instincts, Jak probably wouldn't have lived through half of the missions that he had been on in this city.

"I'm sorry if I seem sceptical, your 'feelings'. Hard evidence tends move me the other direction."

"Maybe if you'd listen to yours more often you wouldn't be in the mess you are now." Jak said quite defiantly, finally voicing what he had been thinking for the past couple weeks. Jak had caught him off guard, not giving Torn time to get his game face on so he actually looked genuinely uncomfortable. He didn't say anything however, and because he didn't want to play Dear Abby this early in the morning, he let it pass. "Anyway, what I'm getting at is you can't just throw away what you see and feel in exchange for what you hear on the street from some toothless bum."

"Very deep, coming from you."

"It's the lack of sleep." It looked like Torn was considering what he was saying, but before he said a word Jak knew what his answer would be.

"I want a background check as soon as you're done at the Strip. If everything seems normal, I won't throw her in a six by nine. Got it?" The expression on Torn's face told Jak that he wasn't doing this with his better judgement, more to keep one of his top men on peaceful terms with him.

"Sure thing, boss." As Torn moved past him to clean up, Jak called after him. "Are you going to tell me why you look like you've just lived through another war?"

Torn leant heavily on the doorframe, staring at the ground, and took a steadying breath before he

spoke. "The strip is gone." He said quietly without turning around, his voice not carrying beyond them. Gone? What did he mean by gone? Did everybody go on strike, or something? Torn stood up, and Jak could literally see him pulling himself together. "Ashelin could use another hand at the Strip. I'd appreciate it if you went over."

Torn opened the door and walked in, Jak following. He stuck his head in the kitchen, trying to look as innocent as possible. Keira had a scowl on that would move mountains, assuming correctly that Torn was here to send Jak out in his place. Jaz looked between them, confused. "Uh…I have to go out, I'll be back in a bit." There was no answer as Keira stared pointedly at the bottom of her cup. Jak shrugged on his jacket and grabbed his keys, sighing. There was nothing he could say to make her feel better, and by the time he got back she would be gone to the warehouse. He left, hoping she did not take out her frustration out on Torn.

------

Torn sifted through the closet and found a clean uniform. It took Torn a few months of calculated visits, but it paid off when he had some clothes his size in every major Freedom Guard household. In Jinx's eyes, he was considered a freeloader, and Torn almost agreed with him, if the phrase did not make him feel more like a bum than someone's commander. Torn didn't really live anywhere; sure he had an office with a couch, and a desk to do paper work on, but that was the extent of his living space. When he slept, it was either short naps between shifts at the house in the Slums, or down in the catacombs, and food was bought fresh from the Bazaar.

After closing the door, Torn logged onto Keira's computer, doing some minor hacking so that anyone who was tapped into the net connection would not be able to track the conversation he was about to have, and would not be able to hear squat. 'They' would be able to see who was talking, but unless they could read lips, it would not do much. From memory, Torn typed in the twelve-digit IP address for Ian.

The podgy, baldhead of Ian filled the display. He looked wearier than Torn felt, but he missed nothing. "Is this secure?"

Torn nodded. "Of course."

"Do you know what time it is?"

"Unfortunately."

"So what is so direly important that you had to wake me up a good four hours before I had to even think about getting out of bed?"

"I need a favour." Torn said, jumping slightly when Jak's Croco-dog, cleverly named Dog, decided it would rather sleep on Torn's lap instead of the bed. Strangely enough, the dog had warmed up to most of Jak's immediate friends, though still keeping a safe distance away from Jinx.

"I picked up a piece of rubble form a recent…accident, and I want it analyzed, but not by anyone familiar to neither me nor the rest of the Council. You know anybody?" Excluding himself and Ashelin, Ian was quite possibly the only other man on the Council not in somebody's pocket. Ian was also one of the few who stood against Praxis and his tight monarchy, and for Torn that was enough to put him on his good list. Ian was also head of Internal Affairs, so he was connected with everybody.

Ian yawned, and scratched his chin in thought. "I might. She's new, and as far as I know not influenced by other sources. So what is this you need looked at?" Unconsciously, Torn started scratching the dog behind the ears as he played with the idea of not telling him anything until Ashelin made an official announcement sometime today, but decided against it. What the hell.

"The Strip has been nearly wiped out. There is a crater ranging from the transport pad to the first docking bay, about the size of the Dirt Stadium near Kras. In the rubble near the blast point, we found something that was vaguely Azure Guard. Ashelin sent it to the public lab, but I would feel more comfortable if you took it to someone private."

"Gone?" He said hoarsely. Ian ran a thick hand over his face and stared off screen for a moment. "How many dead?"

"Estimate would be about one hundred, one hundred fifty. The night shifts are slow, so the death toll should be low."

"Why didn't anybody feel anything? And explosion of that magnitude must have caused a hell of a rumble."

"Kras probably felt something. Maybe it was underwater, dampening the impact. We'll find out when our lab techies get to the site."

"And you think Marcus did this?"

Torn shrugged, stating what he told Ashelin. "No. I think someone inside screwed up and something went off that wasn't supposed to. We may be lucky it went off where it did, if Marcus had any hand in it there would be no denying he would have set it off where it would hurt." Ian nodded slowly in agreement.

"I'll send someone to confiscate the material."

"One more thing." Torn said before he hung up.

"Oh boy. I can only take so much on a Monday morning, Torn."

"It's Sunday."

"Are you telling me you woke my up at five thirty in the morning on a weekend? Budget cuts!" Torn resisted the urge to grin at his deafening sarcasm, and ending up squinting to compensate instead. Despite Ian's mature age, his attitude could match someone of a much younger generation.

"There's going to be an arms deal taking place just off the coast, tonight. One of my contacts is in that group, and in return for a wide array of information, he's requesting amnesty and medical services."

"What kind of medical services?"

"The expensive kind." Buying and installing a bionic eye did not come cheap, and considering the financial crisis Haven was already in, it would cause a slight ripple in the way of things. "Witness protection and another identity wouldn't be a bad idea either. I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention this to anyone else."

"Which part, the fact that you're going to be harbouring fugitives, or the fact that you're spending government money on one? Or maybe your paranoia about everyone on the Council being against everything that is good in the world?"

"All of the above."

Ian sighed. "Torn, you make me tired." After a few more minutes of pointless banter, Ian left, though whether to do what Torn asked him to or not was debatable. Instead of leaving, Torn decided to make one more call.

"Torn?" Marcus squinted into the com. Torn took great amusement that his hair was out of its usual place, and he looked all around sloppy. Imperfection drove him completely up the wall. "Calling before ten is very rude, not to mention unprofessional."

"Well, I'm just a rebel."

"Hmm, yes. Taking leisurely walks into Kras would classify as rebellious." Torn kept the look of absolute shock off his face; was there anything this guy didn't know? Not that it mattered. Torn could play this game.

"What I do in my personal time is no concern of yours, however what you do in your personal time raises some question. I may be a rebel, but you are downright treasonous. Setting a bomb off is a little flashy for you, isn't it Marcus? I would have though you had a little more class than that." Torn took great pleasure from seeing his features go from mocking, to stone solid in an instant.

"Accusations like that could get you put away." His voice was low and threatening, but Torn would have none of it.

"Oh, don't worry, Marcus. I won't sell you out, I know it wasn't you. You're too smart for that." He smirked, relishing the moment. "One of your lackeys really shed some light on what you're planning, taking out the Strip."

"Lackeys? Your vocabulary is astonishing." Marcus said dryly.

"I want to speak with you, in person, in forty eight hours. I'll be there in the morning."

"Coming alone could prove dangerous, Torn."

"You know damn well if I would be overruled if the council knew about this meeting. Be there, or your head is going to be mounted on my wall." Torn hung up, now in a foul mood. Any conversation with Marcus seems to end with Torn becoming grumpier than usual.

He debated on whether to do put a couple more hours in at the Strip, look at the damage reports that were starting to trickle in, or go get rid of the girl. Choices, choices. Staring at pages and pages of statistics and numbers did not appeal to him, then again neither did going back to the Strip and counting bodies. The girl it was.

Dog trotted along after Torn as he headed towards the kitchen, getting a scorching glance from Keira as she stormed out of the house with a large bag that clanked as she walked. He poked his head back in the living area and saw that most of the scattered parts of technology that usually covered the table, floor, couch, and any other solid surface was gone, a couple of forgotten tools was all that remained. Apparently Keira wouldn't be coming back for a while, Torn could imagine why. A slight twinge of guilt started forming in the pit of his stomach as he thought of the countless times he's torn those two apart due to work. He was able to reason with himself in a few seconds that crime never sleeps, so neither should anyone else. His logic was astounding, and it made him feel incredibly selfish.

Torn stood in front of the girl who was sitting innocently at the kitchen table, staring at a crack in the wood seemingly in another place, not noticing his inquiring stare. She was very strange looking, with her small frame and impossibly pale skin. He thought back to what Eddie had told him, about a women being sent out to dispose of the Underground and wondered if it was coincidence enough for it to be a completely different person? If Torn believed in coincidence, he might have agreed with himself. She didn't look like a killer, and certainly didn't look to have the physical strength to be a killer. Torn shook his head. She wasn't a killer, she was a spy at best. Fine.

The girl finally seemed to notice him, looking up from her daydream and eyed him fearfully. The strange eyes she possessed reminded him very strongly of an albino, or even the soothsayer, Onin. That's when a brilliant idea struck him. Onin was a clairvoyant and would be able to see and tell if she was not to be trusted. Onin saw it in Kor, however, due to the lack of physical proof, it was disregarded. Damned if Torn would make the same mistake twice.

Quickly he grabbed looked on Jak's hanger for a set of keys so he could make a quick trip to the Bazaar. "Come with me." He said quietly to the girl, but she jumped at the sound of his voice. "I'm going to take you somewhere where I don't have to keep an eye on you. Come on, let's go." He nodded towards the door, but instead of complying, she seemed to become ridged and glued to her seat. "Don't make this difficult, kid." As he walked towards the table, she fell off the chair she was perched on and scuttled with her back towards the nearest wall so she could go no further. Barely breathing, she closed her eyes and looked the opposite direction, obviously hoping he would go away. Torn was utterly confused at her behaviour towards him. If she was a spy, she was putting on a very impressive act. If she wasn't…was he that intimidating?

In an effort to be less frightening to the kid, he unsheathed his large knife from his back, and took off his two visible weapons, setting them on the table. The girl looked up at the noise, and spotted his weapons out of his immediate reach. "I'm not going to hurt you," He bent down slightly and out stretched his hand, hoping she would take it as a sign of friendliness if she couldn't understand him, which he was beginning to consider a possibility.

The girl stared at him, and then with a quavering hand took his. He helped her up and took her to Onin, glad to put a check mark against at least one item on his To Do list.


End file.
